Ravensblood Forest paint hell red

how interesting.

Huntington was all for the betterment of her knowledge. she stared openly at the red sap, musing quietly to herself of the various medical properties it could hold. where was this when she had treated that young man? it could have easily splashed against his chest, blending in with the dried wounds. then again, she did not know if this sap was medicinal or not. it could even be a freak of a thing; a poison seeping from nature itself. and if that was so, she did delight in such news. poison was, at the core, a lovely thing to witness. 

a lanky woman, a small woman, did not inspire much - shall we say - confidence in defending oneself. thus far she had met little hostility but it was only a matter of time before that happened. mortals, she found, were overjoyed to throw their weight around. they enjoyed the pull of power, the lull of violence... Huntington was not one to be physically strong. she thought, rather assumed, that it led to a bloated head. either way, she pushed herself to her back legs with her front rested upon the bark of one tree.

her eyes were entirely focused on her work. collecting the blood sap for further study. she did not notice if another approached her from behind unless they spoke.

@Ford

The thought that he had not found the man who had assaulted Dalia had left him with a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach. Though he knew that he was needed in the bay, he wondered if the girl harbored ill feelings toward him after he had failed to hunt down the brute. Try as he might, Ford knew that it was a poor reflection of his leadership skills. On that day, he had ventured out beyond the borders of the bay and inland – to the woods. Once there, he had hunkered himself low and prowled beneath the stretching trees. Though he was not fully accustomed to the wild wood, he did not lack any predatory air.

Were it not for the figure of a stranger, the warhound would have merely passed by. Instead, the sharp coloration of a pale skull drew his mismatched gaze toward her and froze. The markings were a lesser version of his own; something he hadn't seen before. The titan paused in his steps and latched onto her frame with a modicum of interest on his features. Still, his gaze betrayed nothing of what he felt. After several long minutes, the sea wraith released a chuff from deep within his throat, and waited to see if she would turn to him.

perhaps she had been too focused on her work to notice the arrival of another. oh well. she could not control time, however much she had a wish to in the back corners of her mind. her nails could be used to scrape the sap off, but she did not have anything to collect it in. a shame. with a small grunt, she reclined, taking her paws off the tree to rest upon the cool earth. at the other's call, one ear flicked idly behind before her head swirled toward them.

she was met with a tall beast of a man, his own stark-white face almost mirroring her own. she arched a proverbial brow. the chuff had been from him, obviously. there were none others around. he smelt of the coast, a place she had been coming to a few days now. of course, they were both here. yet he had the stronger smell of it. "curious" she breathed at last, shifting her body to look at him properly. the rib-like markings upon his flank reminded her of a decaying corpse.

"almost a brother, yet not even blood" Huntington mused, tilting her head at him. if she had any siblings at all, he was a near perfect match for one. yet she knew it was impossible. "well then... how may I assist you?" she asked quietly. he must have some need of her if he had to call out.

The woman turned to him with a sharp expression and a pale gaze that latched to his features. He did not miss the way that she roamed his frame with a wandering eye, holding for a moment on the standard Cairn-markings that adorned his ribs. How his father had cherished those markings so, but the titan had known it to be merely a fluke of his luck. Even Rannveig had sported a pair of pale coloration that stood in contrast to his slate coat. Skellige had always been a proud fool, though; it only made sense that he would treasure the marking that so closely resembled his own. In many ways, Ford was displeased with it... and by that same token, he too found pride in his familial trademark. What a backwards world they had been birthed into.

Curious, was the comment that fell from her lips. This did not stir him, and his expression did not shift from the calculated stare that it had worn for most of its existence. He had been called far worse things than a mere curiosity.

“I am searching for a bastard who has harmed one of my own,” the warhound returned to her with a firm nod of his peculiar skull. A slight curling of his lip revealed the dagger-like tip of his canine before he housed it once more. “A hound colored orange and white – short furred. Have you seen anyone of the sort?” His mismatched gaze bore into the other wolf without having addressed her comment on their similarities. To Ford, there were none who resembled the Cairn wolves. She may have shared the hood of white, but she knew nothing of their brood.

every person in this land was in search of someone. Huntington did not so much as blink as he dismissed the similarities - though, yes, apart from the skull-clad masks both wore, they could not be more different. at least that is what she assumed. the man had an outward ego that was quite clear to see. importance radiated off of him, whether he wanted it to or not. for her, this was easy to dismiss. many fools claimed importance. that they were special in some way. it was quite laughable at times. if he had shared his bloodline, she would have chuckled. it meant nothing to her. she was an outcast. blood was blood. it spilled easily.

and just as well as anyone's for that matter. important family or not. "no" she replied, going back to her earlier thought of assumption. most of these men and women held grey coats. the odd brown or copper, yet not ginger. at least what she saw. "I have seen no one matching those details." at least she was truthful on that. given the weight of his tone, it was not in her interest to lie and say she had. Huntington turned her head away, clearly aware he would resume his search and leave her be. she had given him no leads, after all. 

a curiosity passed within her, though she did not look back at him. " and what is the name of this person - should I see them?" the crime was assault. perhaps a pressing manner if the other had violence toward anyone in the vicinity. namely her.

His blood was none of her business, and not his reason for having approached her that day. The brute was hunting for a man who had caused one of his own a great deal of harm. The similarities that he might have shared with the crass female on the seaside was not a reason to stop his hunt – she was not important enough to him to have halted his searching. Dalia was, though, and so he kept the freckled young girl in his mind as he trudged through his conversation with the voodoo woman before him.
 
She was quick to tell him that she had passed no one who matched the appearance that he had provided. The idea was frustrating, but not something that he or she could have helped. Ford drew his skull upward and peered inland a ways to see if there was a sign of the bastard that would point him where he should have gone. The skeletal titan only wished that Dalia had told him sooner than she had; he wished that he could have sunk his fangs into the throat of the pathetic weasel who had harmed her before he’d ever gotten the chance.
 
“We did not receive his name, unfortunately,” the warhound remarked to her at her inquiry. It would have made the search a great deal easier, he had imagined. “But I do appreciate your assistance.” Even if you provided me with nothing… he thought sharply to himself. Ford could not have been mad at her. He lacked all capability to hold anger for someone that he did not know for more than a few moments. Instead, he felt a great wave of indifference that had washed over him.